


Adult Storytime

by jpnadia



Series: A Beautiful Day for a Neighbor (4gfs) [2]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: 4gfs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Consent, F/F, Flogging, Gym Sex, Light Bondage, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, they trust each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpnadia/pseuds/jpnadia
Summary: “Do I get to touch?”“If you want,” says Harrow, carelessly discarding another magazine. And then, pointedly: “And if Griddle behaves.”Another noise from across the room. Corona is starting to see the shape of this. “Want me to get Cam?”“If Cam wants to join us, we’d be glad to have her.” Harrow’s mouth twists, curving up. “Though some of these magazines are very nasty.”Coronabeth Tridentarius has never asked about the rope marks Harrow leaves on Gideon's wrists. It was only ever a matter of time before she found out anyway.This is a coda toLet's Make The Most of this Beautiful Day (Since We're Together We Might As Well), but it can be read as a standalone.
Relationships: Camilla Hect/Coronabeth Tridentarius, Camilla Hect/Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus/Coronabeth Tridentarius, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Series: A Beautiful Day for a Neighbor (4gfs) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928857
Comments: 19
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Isabelle_Saphir for the beta.

Corona knocks on Gideon’s bedroom door. She’s looking for one of her necklaces, and she thinks, vaguely, that she might have left it in Gideon’s room the last time they’d all fucked there. 

“Come on in,” calls Harrow. That’s normal. Harrow only uses her room in Palamedes’s house when she needs space. The door’s unlocked-- another symptom of Harrow’s presence. Harrow dislikes locks as much as Gideon uses them compulsively.

Corona pushes the door open. Harrow’s sitting on Gideon’s neatly-made bed, looking through the papery contents of an under-the-bed plastic storage tote. Still normal. The part where Gideon’s naked and on her knees across the room with her hands tied behind her back? Decidedly less normal.

“Is now a bad time?” she asks, taking in the tableau. Not that it’s not delicious, seeing all of Gideon’s strength bound to the whim of Harrow’s delicate fingers. 

“Up to you,” says Harrow, taking another magazine out of the box. “You’re welcome to stay and watch. You don’t mind, do you, Griddle?”

Gideon doesn’t say anything, but she makes a low, distressed noise. Or-- Corona looks closer-- not distressed. She’s rubbing her thighs together. 

Corona squints. Harrow is rifling through Gideon’s porn collection. She’s not exactly sure what’s going on here. It's one thing to occasionally see the rope marks Harrow leaves on Gideon's skin, and another thing entirely to see her actually tied up. There’s a bright flush staining from Gideon’s cheeks all the way down her chest, almost all the way to her nipples. 

“Do I get to touch?”

“If you want,” says Harrow, carelessly discarding another magazine. And then, pointedly: “And if Griddle behaves.”

Another noise from across the room. Corona is starting to see the shape of this. “Want me to get Cam?”

“If Cam wants to join us, we’d be glad to have her.” Harrow’s mouth twists, curving up. “Though some of these magazines are very nasty.”

Gideon pulls against the rope, fidgety in the way she always is when she’s particularly aroused. She does not dispute Harrow’s invitation.

“I do like a party,” says Corona. “I’ll be right back.”   
  
The necklace has been lost for weeks now. A few more hours won’t make a difference. Besides, some things are important.

* * *

“Come here,” says Harrow, once Corona is spread comfortably over Gideon’s bed on her stomach and Cam is tucked up against Cor’s side.

In the corner, Gideon tucks her toes and rises to her feet with her hands still tied behind her back. It’s more graceful than Gideon usually is. Harrow points, and Gideon sinks back onto her knees on the floor in front of the bed in a well-practised motion.

The corners of the magazine Harrow has chosen are worn away, the edges of the pages ruffled with frequent readings. The comic itself is objectively weird-- about a necromancer using harsh restraints made of bone and sinew to conquer her vassals. It’s immediately apparent why Gideon likes it so much. The necromancer bears a faint resemblance to Harrow.

“Not really subtle,” observes Corona. 

Harrow acknowledges this with a smile, flips the cover open, and begins to read out loud. The story is-- well, it’s porn. Gideon, at least, appears enthralled in spite of that. Her focus on Harrow is soft, intense, and complete, even as her eyes fall half-shut. She's not looking at the pages.

Harrow tangles her hand in Gideon's hair, ruffling it, pulling it just a little, and Gideon comes back from her quiet place. She's still not looking at the pages. Corona begins to suspect Gideon has the magazine memorized.

Cam's pressing her face into Cor's shoulder blade, probably trying to hide her incredulous expression. They've clearly stumbled into something sacred between Gideon and Harrow, and knowing Cam, she's torn between respecting the moment and wanting to ask a thousand questions about the internal continuity of the story. 

Corona knows all about respecting things that look strange from the outside. She still loves Ianthe, even after everything they've done to each other*. Also, she doesn't have to care about the increasingly improbable, convoluted plot to appreciate the expression on Gideon's face, or the way she's leaning, just a little bit shamelessly, into Harrow's hand.

Harrow tugs at Gideon's hair again. Gideon stops leaning, sitting up straight with perfect posture on her knees. Harrow's to command.

Harrow flips the magazine shut. Apparently, the story is to be continued. Corona can't imagine how. (Or maybe she can, but she doesn't particularly want to.) There's a more important story, one centered in this physical bedroom. They don't need elaborate bone collars for this.

"Exquisite," says Corona. She's an expert on beautiful things, and she's qualified to comment here. Gideon, constrained, is art. "What happens next?"

"Anything I want," says Harrow. Gideon's shoulders draw down her back in a way that indicates that Harrow isn't the only person who wants those things. "Sometimes I keep her like this for hours. We've never had company before, though I suppose we knew it was only a matter of time. Did anything catch your imagination?"

Cam stirs. "The gym?" She props herself up on an elbow. "Like on this page." She holds out her palm, Harrow hands her the magazine, and Cam finds the page with expert fingers. She indicates what she's looking at: an image of a musclebound figure tied to a frame just behind the necromancer's throne. A visual delicacy symbolizing the necromancer's power. Corona sees what Cam has in mind immediately: they can set up the power rack.

She also sees something she'd missed before-- a brighter spot on the corner of the magazine and the faintest sticky residue-- like there had been a Post-it marking the page until recently. Cam's eagle eyes never miss anything. May Corona never lose sight of her luck: that she has Cam's wit, Harrow's skill, and Gideon's warmth in her life.

"Can she walk downstairs?" asks Cam. The question is directed at Harrow, but they're all watching Gideon, who hasn't so much as shifted to peer at the magazine laid out behind her head.

"You can answer." Harrow's fingers stroke over the fine hairs at the base of Gideon's neck.

"'M here," says Gideon, "'s fine." She lapses back into silence.

"I don't usually allow her to talk," says Harrow conversationally, her hand still in Gideon's hair. "She gets so caught up in the words. And I don't want that. Only her unquestioning obedience."

Gideon bows her head, shame and capitulation at once.

Harrow walks around Gideon and reaches for her bound wrists. Gideon's head snaps up in alarm when Harrow's fingers touch the first loop of rope. She whimpers. Now that Corona has calibrated the noises Gideon makes like this, it's the first she's heard that isn't all pleasure.

"Shhhh." Harrow leans forward to whisper against Gideon's ear. "You're being so good. We just need to go downstairs, and I want your hands free. Just in case."

Gideon sucks breath in hard through her nose and nods, the motion jerky with uncertainty.

Deft of fingers, Harrow loops the rope around just one of Gideon's wrists this time, just the left one, five or six times before she pulls the tail under the coils, tracing the lines of Gideon's veins. "Is that better, Griddle? You're too handsome to waste on a fall. Not when I've got you all worked up like this."

Another nod, soft this time. Gideon's relaxed again. Corona has never felt so much like she's an intruder, and yet Harrow smiles at her and makes her complicit.

"Good girl." Harrow stands, takes something from one of the end tables and makes it disappear into one of her many pockets. She takes up the end of the rope. "Shall we?"

* * *

They make it downstairs to the gym without issue. It must make a hell of a picture: three women in professional work clothes and one very naked one with a rope wrapped around her left wrist. Cam leads the way, holding doors and steadying Gideon as they make their way through the house.

Harrow points at the rack, which is as naked as Gideon, and turns her to face away from the mirrored wall. "Grab on," Harrow says. "You know your limits: reach as high as you can, but I want to keep you there for a while, and if you let go before I give you permission, this will be over. Don't disappoint me."

Gideon reaches for the frame of the power rack. 

"Cor, would you please?" Harrow can't reach that high, and doesn't bother trying when she's got three girlfriends right there to help her out. Obligingly, Cor adjusts the J-cups to the notch above where Gideon's hands are. Cam passes her a bar, and Cor puts it into place. 

"Grab the bar," Harrow tells Gideon. "I want you all stretched out for me. I want to look at you."

Gideon adjusts her grip. Her back muscles shift with the movement. Corona takes a moment to appreciate the view, even as Harrow prods Gideon's ankles so she moves her feet further apart. Usually, when they’re in a group like this, Gideon is  _ busy _ , moving and touching and trying to make the encounter work for everyone else. Harrow has rendered her still.

She’s stunning like this, the fine red hair that she doesn’t shave running down her arms and legs, collecting at her armpits and between her spread legs, all muscles and skin with her chin tipped back in surrender.

Harrow circles Gideon, walking around the bars of the rack. She pulls something Corona doesn’t immediately recognize out of one of her largest pockets to show Gideon, whose breath catches. Corona leans to get a better view. A flogger. Harrow’s got a flogger in her hand. 

She draws the handle from Gideon's navel up the center line of her body to just under her chin. "How are you doing?" she asks seriously, the careless tone suddenly gone. She cups Gideon's cheek with her other hand.

Gideon dips her head to meet Harrow's eyes, hands never leaving the bar. "Green," she says. "God,  _ Harrow _ \--"

"Shhhh," says Harrow. Cor can't tell if it's comfort or a rebuke. Maybe it's both. She trails the falls from Gideon's shoulder, over the biceps. Gideon shudders, abs tensing visibly, and falls silent again.

Harrow crosses behind Gideon, the gym mats muffling her footsteps. Just as quietly, she pulls something over-- one of the boxes that Cam and Gideon use for plyometrics. She steps on top of it.

"Don't even think about saying anything." Harrow mouths the words around Gideon’s back, all exaggerated diction and no sound. "And never tell her."

Corona nods, can sense Cam doing the same next to her. She’s riveted as Harrow draws her arm back and lands the first stroke. There’s the mirrored wall behind Harrow, and it means that Cor can see  _ everything _ . 

As Harrow finds a rhythm, Cor leans forward, utterly fascinated. She’s never seen impact play in person before. She’s a connoisseur of pleasure, and she knows it takes a great deal of skill to learn how to do this kind of thing safely. Before today, she’d written it off as a lot of work in order to cause a partner pain. Watching this is making her reconsider.

Harrow has obviously spent the time to learn this skill. The falls land on the muscled planes of Gideon’s back over and over again in a well-practiced motion, the physicality of it at odds with Harrow’s usual milieu. Even with clear evidence of practice, the blows aren’t particularly  _ hard _ . 

From Gideon’s reactions, they don’t have to be. Her body bows, arching in what appears to be bliss. 

Harrow stops, and Gideon keens. “Stay still for me,” says Harrow. (She drags her blunt fingernails over Gideon’s shoulder blades, where the flogging has brought blood to the surface in a glorious pink flush. Gideon hisses.) “You know better.”

Gideon nods, chastened. She uses the respite to suck in great quantities of air. She takes some of her weight in her arms, and Corona gets to watch as her biceps flex. 

When Harrow lands the next blow, Gideon’s expression dissolves into helpless rapture. Her features are the only thing that move: obedient to Harrow’s command, she holds herself motionless, absorbing everything Harrow gives her. 

Corona rolls up to her feet, leaving Cam securely perched on the weightlifting bench behind her as she takes a few steps closer. “Can I touch?” she asks. 

Harrow pauses, considering. "As long as she stays still, I think she's earned a treat," she says at last. "Haven't you, Griddle?"

Gideon chokes back a sob. She's squeezed her eyes shut in a way that has grown familiar to Corona over the months they've been together, and Cor is absolutely certain that if she ran a hand up Gideon's thigh, she'd find Gideon slick and ready.

But Harrow has been drawing this out, and Cor is loath to rush to an ending so quickly. She wants to see Gideon pushed to her limits. Gideon doesn't like tongue kissing, so Corona leans in and bites her lower lip instead.

Gideon whines, long and desperate. She’s been very quiet throughout the encounter, but apparently Corona’s participation has broken her silence.

Corona pops up on her tiptoes to put her breasts in Gideon’s face. She’s still wearing the blouse she wore to work, but at close range, that doesn’t matter. Gideon pants, so close to Corona and not allowed to touch. Her breath, hot and harsh, caresses Corona's clavicles.

This is Cor’s particular gift, they’ve learned. Something about her touch draws forth every noise that Gideon usually suppresses. 

Corona is peripherally aware that Harrow has moved her focus from Gideon's shoulders to her ass. If she looks over Gideon's shoulder, she can see the stripes Harrow's nails have left across Gideon's back. She doesn't need to look. The knowledge that they are there-- that Gideon is offering up her body like this-- is enough.

Gideon cries out when Cor slides a hand up the flexing muscles of her belly, and does not get quieter when Corona cups her breast.

Corona thumbs a nipple experimentally, and Gideon rewards her with a wordless shout. It's delicious to have Gideon's tits in her hands, even sweeter to see Gideon's eyes flicker open and light with desperate longing on Corona's own breasts, knowing that Gideon is not allowed to touch.

The noises Gideon makes grow wilder and match themselves to the rhythm Harrow sets, and Corona takes up that rhythm, pinching in time with the impacts. This close, she can feel Gideon's muscles begin to quiver with the exertion of staying still.

Harrow can feel it too, and when Harrow stops, Corona follows her lead and steps away, so that she can survey the length of Gideon's trembling body.

"What do you say?" prompts Harrow.

"Thank you," says Gideon, in a voice gone ragged around the edges.

"Good girl," says Harrow, and Corona is glad that she took a few steps back, because Gideon's thighs and abs tense like she could have come untouched, at Harrow's words alone, if she weren't holding herself back. The sight is glorious.

"Let go for me and come here." Harrow is tiny, but Gideon lets go of the bar and immediately sinks down to her knees. Harrow gathers her in, strokes her hair, presses kisses to her temples and to the crown of her head. "How are you doing?"

Gideon leans, her cheek on Harrow's shoulder, her face buried in Harrow's neck. "Green."

"You've earned a choice. Do you want to finish and come for me now? Or do you want to keep going, and I'll let you touch?"

"Please, Harrow, please let me touch," says Gideon immediately, even though she must be desperate to come.

"Do you want her to serve you?" Harrow asks, back to her careless, confident voice. It draws another shudder from Gideon. 

Corona studies Harrow, standing so that Gideon can only hear her, not see her. In spite of Harrow's voice, her face says that she isn't quite sure. They haven't negotiated this kind of thing, not exactly, and it's already intense. Cam seems to have the same reservations.

"Not today, I think."

"She's very good," says Harrow, mouthing  _ thank you _ as she reaches down to trace the line of Gideon's jaw. "Another time?"

"I can't wait," says Corona, honestly. After they've all talked about what they want. For now, she goes back to Cam to give Harrow and Gideon some space. She wants to see what happens next from a safe remove.

Harrow smiles and nods, and then redirects all her attention to Gideon. "Do you want to use your mouth?" she asks. (Gideon makes a strangled, desperate sound by way of consent.) "Then help me with my clothes."

Cam settles her body against Corona's back. They watch together as Gideon stays on her knees to undress Harrow with a kind of reverence uncharacteristic to everyday Gideon’s normal attitude.

Gideon seems a little more lucid now, in spite of the warm red flush that trails down her shoulders. She and Harrow are together now, engaging in a dance no less intense for the repetition, rampaging toward a private crescendo made of the ferocious need the two of them have for each other. (Sometimes, Corona wants what they have, that intensity, that utter devotion-- and then she remembers what they were like before they admitted their feelings to one another. They were a chemical reaction then, too, but with much less enjoyable results.)

Gideon helps Harrow scoot her hips to the end of a weight bench, adjusts the decline so it's easy for her to kneel between Harrow's thighs. 

Cam's fingers trail over the back of Corona's hand, and Cor laces their fingers together. It's enough to watch, to see Harrow pull Gideon's hair and Gideon's hands feverishly trace Harrow's hip bones. And then, when Gideon makes a startled and desperate noise that's muffled against Harrow's cunt, it's too much. Too intimate, too intense.

Cam pulls on their linked hands, and Cor goes with her willingly. They've seen so much more than they bargained for, an honor unsought and greatly appreciated.

"They'd better wipe that down," Cam whispers as they head out the door together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, there's more. Or, well, not exactly 'whoops', because it turned out to be harder than I'd expected, but by that point I was almost done, and then I remained almost done for weeks. Such is writing.
> 
> With thanks to Nuaka for cheerleading <3

Corona considers her options as they walk through the hallway. She’d always wondered how exactly Gideon gets the rope marks that linger on her wrists some evenings. Now she has some answers, more questions, and an undeniable physical reaction to contend with. By the time they’ve made it through the hall, she’s come to a partial decision. She crowds Cam up against the wall next to the living room door and kisses her.

"You liked that?" Cam asks, reaching up to thread her hands through Corona's hair.

Cor pauses. Cam's asked her this kind of question before, and she's never been quite sure how to answer. "I liked watching," she says at last, because she's sure of that, and it’s safe.

"I could tell." To prove it, Cam pushes off the wall. It sends her body into Corona’s, and Cor arches into the full-length contact, Cor's breasts up against Cam's collarbones through their blazers and blouses.

It takes a lot to make Cam lose control. Pinning her up against the wall isn't enough to do the job. Secretly, Cor is grateful. She leans in for another kiss, gets to sink into the sweetness of Cam's lip balm before Cam pulls on her hair. "But the other things. Did you see anything you want to try?"

And that's more complicated. What Gideon does with Harrow is definitely more intense than what Corona wants to do with Cam. She's more than happy to watch and help out, even happier when it's the four of them doing something softer. She has everything she needs, and more of the things she wants than she ever thought she'd have. And yet-- this isn't the first time Cam has asked. Maybe it's worth exploring. "I don't know. What do you want?"

Cam leans back against the wall, entirely at her ease in spite of Corona's arms bracketing her. "If you wanted," she says, "we could try some things. I could tell you what to do, and we can see if that works for you. And if it doesn't, then we'll stop."

"But that's what you  _ want _ ."

"You don't need to meet my every need, Cor," says Cam. They've been over this before, usually when Cor's feeling insecure. "I can always play with Gideon." She doesn't say 'and Palamedes', but Corona can hear it anyway. Knows the tone of voice she uses with him sometimes. Is-- not unaware of the dynamic they have in bed. It's kind of Cam not to mention it, because the sore spot Corona has about how Palamedes treated Cam still isn't fully healed. But she hears it anyway, and she knows it means Cam will get what she needs, and for once, it makes her brave.

“But we could try?”

Cam’s dark eyes get impossibly darker. "I can't say it wouldn't please me to have you at my command."

All the muscles in Coronabeth's stomach go taut. She  _ likes _ it when she can please her girlfriend. “Bed?” she says. She means it to sound lighthearted, but her voice quavers halfway through the bare syllable.

“Bed,” agrees Cam in a tone ripe with insinuation.

* * *

Upstairs, Cam shuts the bedroom door behind her  and begins efficiently stripping off her clothes. She eyes Corona, who's standing frozen by their bed. "Shirt off."

Corona continues staring at her. "What?"

"Shirt off  _ now,  _ Coronabeth. I won't ask again." Cam shakes the wrinkles out of her skirt so that the fabric snaps. She drapes it over the top of the laundry basket and turns, naked, to fix Corona in eyes that carry the most intensity anyone has ever aimed at her.

Her brain cuts out and she scrambles with her buttons. She's heard Cam use that tone before, but it's never been directed at her. She didn't know how well it would work for her, but oh  _ god _ it works for her.

"Bra, too. I want to see your gorgeous tits."

Cor's fingers shake on the hooks. It takes her three tries to get it off. She feels absurdly naked under Cam's cool, appraising stare, even though Cam's not wearing a stitch of clothing herself.

Trembling, she reaches for the side zipper of her skirt, and Cam shakes her head. "No."

Cor stops immediately. All the tension of watching Harrow control Gideon has gathered in her body in a hot, confused ball. Taking it apart is like separating a single strand of pasta from a congealed lump. She doesn't know what Cam wants. 

"You can take that off when I tell you to. Get on the bed, on your back."

It's awkward to crawl over the mattress in a pencil skirt. Cor wants to throw her legs wide, to give Cam access, but the skirt keeps her knees together. She could ruck it up, but she doesn't think Cam wants that. Her heart thuds heavy in her chest. It makes no sense for this to be so hot. Cam hasn't even  _ touched _ her, and Corona finds herself holding her breath as Cam approaches the bed.

Cam swings her leg over Cor's belly  in a lithe motion that Cor can’t stop watching, even as she settles her weight over Cor's pelvis, presses Cor's hips down into the bed. Her core is wet against Corona's belly. It's good to know she's not in this dance alone, even as Cam's lips curl into the cat-smirk that always means Corona's in the best kind of trouble. 

“I’m going to play with you, and I want you to try not to come. I want to see how long you can hold out.” Cam pauses, brushes wayward curls off Corona's forehead. "Is that okay?"

Cor swallows hard and nods. Cam’s hand is  _ right there _ , next to the sensitive side of her breast, and she  _ wants _ . She squeezes her eyes shut, because she can’t possibly be expected to  _ watch _ this on top of everything else.

The touch never comes. Cor cracks her eyes open to see Cam propping her phone by the pillow. She’s got a stopwatch running.

“You're already close, aren't you? I bet you've already soaked through your underwear." Cam lifts one of Cor’s breasts in the slow buildup that Cor usually likes.

But she’s impatient now, already more than half-roused by the show Harrow gave them. She whines and lifts her rib cage. Cam knows her so well, knows that this gesture means that Cor needs  _ more. _

Usually, Cam indulges her. Not this time. “I want you to be good for me. I want you to last.”

For some reason, this makes Corona squirm. “I could come as many times as you want,” she points out. It’s true. They’ve done it before, so often that Corona has lost count.

Taking her hand away from Cor’s breast, Cam places her index finger in the center of Cor’s lips, wordlessly shushing her. “This time is different.”

Because she’s absurdly into this, she nods. Because she’s Coronabeth Tridentarius, she nips the pad of Cam’s finger before she takes it away.

This makes Cam laugh, and a wave of dizzy delight swamps Corona’s heart in a great fluid rush that ebbs and flows right up to the moment that Cam cups her breast again.

Cam starts with slow, small touches, and they light on her skin like tiny raindrops, building up until she’s pinioned under the weight of the water, pushing against the surface tension and unable to break through. Corona can feel every inch of her body, working against the pressure.

When Cam finally brushes a thumb over Cor’s nipple, Cor’s hips come helplessly up off the bed. The weight of Cam’s body arrests her progress. If she could line up two thoughts together, she could throw Cam off, could rear up over her and twine their thighs together and bring them both to completion. But she can’t line up a second thought. There’s only space for the one thing running through her mind: Cam wants her exactly where she is, writhing under her.

“You’re beautiful like this,” says Cam, taking hold of a nipple and tugging. "Let me hear you."

Cor hasn't been holding back her noises, but the demand draws forth a whine. The intensity of Cam's focus makes her hips work fruitlessly against the mattress. She rubs her thighs together, and her clit is throbbing so insistently that the indirect stimulation is perfect. She's so fucking wet, it would barely take anything to tip her over the edge now.

Which is when she realizes her mistake. She's supposed to be holding out for Cam, not getting herself off while Cam plays with her tits. She jerks her legs apart-- the fabric of the skirt snaps taut-- and drags air in through her mouth, trying to capture the meditative breathing that she does when she swims laps. 

It doesn't work, and it gives everything away. Cam laughs down at her, but it's warm, even as Corona squirms at being so transparent. Cam is  _ allowed _ to know what she does to Cor, and yet--

"Good girl," murmurs Cam. "I know it's hard. You're doing so well."

Cam herself has long since stopped being gentle; she pinches Corona’s nipple  _ hard _ and Corona has to tense every muscle in her thighs to keep herself together. She can’t keep still, and Cam’s leaning on her, a considerable portion of her body weight spread across the breadth of Cam’s palm splayed out just below her collarbone.

“Hold on for me. You’re doing so well,” Cam tells her, as implacable as ever. She gives Cor’s other nipple a vicious twist, and Corona snarls, surging up, finding the meat of Cam’s bicep with her teeth. She’s so close, but she won’t disappoint Cam.

She grinds down onto nothing, careful to keep her legs parted, because the second she gets some friction on her overheated clit, it's all going to be over. 

If Cam keeps doing that thing with her teeth on Corona's nipple, it may be over anyway. "Cam-- Cam!--"

Cam lifts her head for just long enough to say, "It's okay, it's okay, go ahead," before she bites in again, and there are going to be marks all over Corona's breasts. Corona takes the permission, squeezes her eyes shut and her legs together, and lets herself writhe once, twice. On the third beat she tips over the edge, and Cam sucks on her nipple as she rides it out. It's not the best or the longest orgasm she's had, especially now that she gets to sleep with Cam on a regular basis, but it whets her appetite and leaves her hungry.

Cor knows that Cam knows that after the first orgasm, all bets are off, that Cor can come again and again on a hair trigger.

“You’ve earned a treat,” says Cam. She rolls off Corona and spreads herself across the bed next to Cor, and yes,  _ yes _ , Corona wants this very much. For all that Cam seems imperturbable, she shies away from the spotlight. Corona has never understood that-- she  _ loves _ the spotlight, but she’ll draw attention from her girlfriend for the rest of their lives if Cam wants her to. It's rare and precious when Cam gives Cor the opportunity to focus on her, and she isn't going to waste it. She curls herself down to feast, and gets stopped by Cam's hand in her hair. "I want you on your knees."

And that's interesting, because they've tried it that way before, with Cam's thighs off the mattress and over her shoulders, and Corona is just too tall and the angles are weird unless Cor holds Cam's hips up off the bed, or cranes her neck.

Which means Cam wants her to work for it. It makes Corona want to prove herself.

"I know you can do it," Cam adds, and Cor quits messing around and drops onto the floor.

Getting into position is just as painful as Corona remembers. The wool of her skirt traps her thighs and scrapes across her naked calves. Cam has to scoot awkwardly to the edge of the bed, and it takes some adjusting for Corona to prop Cam’s hips at the right height. 

It's all worth it when Corona gets to nuzzle the thick black hair that frames Cam’s cunt. Under Cor’s palms, Cam’s hips jerk in a tiny motion that they both know intimately. Cam fists her hands in Cor’s hair and tugs, and Cor has just long enough for a watery laugh before Cam steers  Corona in . There’s no teasing here, no way for her to let go of Cam’s hips long to use her fingers, but that’s not an excuse for Corona to abandon finesse.

The sweet slick texture of Cam’s cunt is gorgeously familiar under Corona’s tongue. She knows how to use the flat, where to carve in with the blade, and when to suck (not yet). The difference is that usually, they’re  _ together _ , and this time, there is a distance between them that Corona can feel every time she looks up past Cam's treasure trail to see her heavy-lidded expression of approval.

Her arms start to burn, her toes fall asleep, and she thinks of the strength Gideon had when she was holding onto that bar, with her thickly-muscled arms held above her head for all that time.

But Cam's hands make fists at the base of Cor's skull, and every time she gets something exactly right, Cam gives her hair a little tug, just the way Corona likes it. She gets to feel Cam's thighs against her cheeks as Cam's hips start to move, and there is no way Coronabeth is going to let a little muscle fatigue stand in the way of giving Cam everything they both want.

Her own need grows with every miniscule twitch in Cam's pelvis, and she ignores it. Cam has been so good to her, and she wants to be good to Cam, wants to be good  _ enough _ to have earned this.

Cam's abs contract under her hands, and Corona presses the flat of her tongue hard against her girlfriend, with just a little bit of suction, invites Cam to ride her tongue through it until Cam pulls on her hair for real. "Enough, Cor, enough." She lets her head fall back against the mattress. A chunk of hair clings to her cheek, glued on with sweat, and her fringe is frazzled. "God, you're good at that."

Licking her lips, Corona stretches out her wrists, rolls her shoulders until her arms feel better, surreptitiously wriggles until feeling comes back to her toes. Pins and needles for now, but that will pass.

On the bed, Cam runs her fingers through her hair twice, decisively, and returns it to order. "Take off your skirt and come here." Her silky-smooth composure has fallen back into place, but Cor has seen the cracks under it. This is a game, and Cam has told her the rules, and they can both win.

Corona thinks about stalling, about playing coy, but it's only a habit. In real life, she can't see the point. Why would she delay when Cam is everything she wants?

When she stands, her thighs tremble a little, and her fingers shake on the zipper. 

Cam swoops in and strips Cor’s underwear off herself. It tangles awkwardly around her ankles, forces Cor to lift first one foot and then the other for her girlfriend. It’s worth it when Cam stands again, balling silky fabric up in her palm. “You soaked these,” she observes in her neutral tone. There are faint creases in the corners of her eyes.

“Is that a problem?” It's much easier to crawl over the bed now that she's naked, so she makes a show of it, flipping her hair back to flow over the arch of her back before she pulls her legs up and twists around on the bed to sit facing Cam.

Cam's up on her knees, like they're going to wrestle or spar, naked on this broad square of tangled blankets. “You’re going to take everything I want to give you."

“And what's in it for you?" Cor doesn't know why she's pushing, except that it makes Cam's eyes go from dark to darker.

Cam pushes her lightly back onto the tangled sheets. “Coronabeth Tridentarius. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re gorgeous, do you?”

She rolls them so that Cam is lying on her right side, and Cor is facing her on her left with her dominant hand stuck under them. "Cam--" says Corona. She wants to touch, and her right hand is clumsier.

"I remember that you're left-handed," Cam says, with some heat. "Remember that you're here to please me."

At that, Corona stops trying to trace Cam's spine with her leaden right hand, gives up, hangs on to Cam's shoulder.

"There's my girl," says Cam, and runs a hand up the inside of Corona's thigh.

For a moment, Cor's scared Cam's going to tease, but instead she finds her, parts her, fills her with the same confident thrust that she knows so well. It feels different this time, with one arm pinned under the weight of Cam's torso and the other scrabbling at Cam's shoulder like Cam's her life raft, and she's trying to scramble on board.

Having Cam's fingers inside her is as overwhelming as it always is. The stretch, the relentlessness, the canny dexterity that Cam uses to find every one of Cor's spots and exploit it ruthlessly.

She drags her nails down Cam's back, seeking traction, and Cam makes a wounded grunt. Cam's reactions-- rare and precious-- always make Cor drip, even when Cam's fingers convulsively curl up inside her. 

Her hips work. She sees stars, fights through the haze, combs through the wreckage of her brain until she finds words. She only needs two. "You okay?"

"Do you have any idea what it was like to have you on your knees for me?" Cam’s voice catches in the back of her throat.

Even so, it gives Corona pause. Cam shouldn’t be able to make words at all, not when  _ Cor _ has to round up her thoughts like loose ping-pong balls spilling out of the package. For Cam, she manages. "Was it good?"

Cam snarls at her. "Do it again."

Cor finds Cam's hip with her pinned hand, digs her fingers into the flesh there as she rakes her hand down Cam's back, over and over again, until Cam leans heavier and heavier on top of her and the rhythm of Cam's fingers inside her goes erratic.

She can't brace for the onslaught of pleasure. Cam's teeth sink into the tissue between Cor's shoulder and breast, and Corona hangs on to revel in the ride.

Vaguely, she knows she's screaming, with the tip of her chin pressed hard onto the top of Cam's head. She does not give a single solitary fuck, not when she can feel the rumble of Cam's answering growls sandwiched between her hand and her belly. The tension stretches out like a power line in a thunderstorm, giving against the wind.

"Come for me," Cam says, punctuating the words with curling fingers. She's breathing heavy across the topography of Cor's chest. Every breath is another touch. "As many times as you can."

"You, too," Corona grits out. "Come with me."

After that, there aren't any more words, just the lightning and thunderclap of Corona releasing all the humidity and tension they've built up together, low pressure system meets high, Cam her grounding rod where she's wet and hot against her thigh. Their bodies lash against each other in torrents. Finally, they both collapse, utterly spent.

* * *

Corona knows what she must look like, all fucked-out with her hair a mass of tangled blonde curls behind her on the pillow. There are tender spots dotting her chest, and they'll bruise later. Cor feels very smug about that, and about the way Cam dredges up the energy to prop herself up so that she can look.

Eventually, Cam brushes stray hair out of Corona's face. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Cor stretches out her legs. Oh, she's going to be sore tomorrow.  _ Worth it . _

"That didn't go the way I wanted it to." Cam fidgets, shifting her weight from elbow to hip and back again. "You wanted me to be in charge, and I lost it."

Corona angles her body to give Cam her full attention. She knows well enough that her girlfriend takes pride in being technically adept at the mechanics of sex. She'd hoped that, by now, they had more than that between them. "Cam, I'm not one of your hook-ups. You don't have to impress me, because I'm already impressed." Nervous energy thrums through Cam's body when Cor pulls her in. "I love you. Every part of you." She tugs on Cam's shoulder again, and this time, Cam collapses onto her. "Also, that was hot as hell."

“So it was good?” Cam’s head provides a comforting weight on Corona’s shoulder. She puts a hand low on Cor’s belly to lavish affection on the plush curve there.

"It was  _ definitely _ good,” Corona reassured her, and hesitates. 

Cam knows her too well. "Not for every day?"

"Special occasions only," Corona agrees sleepily. "Naptime?"

* * *

They've barely dozed off when there's a knock on the door.

"You sounded busy," says Harrow through the wood. "But Gideon wanted to know if--"

"Of course," says Cam, even before Harrow can finish. "Get in here; the bed's bigger."

The door swings open. Harrow is still dressed, and she's wrapped Gideon in a fuzzy black blanket. She shoos Gideon toward the bed, where Cam and Cor make room for her. They’ve all cuddled here loads of times, so they know how to position themselves to fit everyone.

Harrow fusses with the covers, tucking Gideon in. "Are you okay here?"

Gideon scrunches down into the blankets, pressing herself up against Cor's side. “‘m fine, Nonagesimus." Her voice is still a little slurred, but every syllable is intelligible. "Go."

"I'll be back." Harrow makes it sound portentous even though Corona is pretty sure Harrow just needs to do something before she can join the snuggles, too.

"You had fun without us," Gideon says, once Harrow shuts the door behind her. She reaches out, and for a second Corona thinks that Gideon's going to poke the bruise, but instead she just rubs her thumb over it. "Next time?"

"Next time," Cam promises.

Corona is looking forward to it.

* * *

A while later, Harrow comes in with four steaming mugs of soup and a pile of grilled cheese sandwiches on a tray.

"You'll get crumbs in the bed," Cam complains, but she helps Harrow set up the tray and scooches them all over so that Harrow can perch on Gideon's other side.

* * *

They do get crumbs in the bed. Gideon and Corona go off to brush their teeth while Cam helps Harrow change the sheets.

“You’ve got marks, too,” Corona says in the bathroom, extending a hand but not touching. The raised red flesh is radiating heat.

Gideon finishes rinsing, spits into the sink, wipes off her mouth with the back of her hand. She straightens up and rolls her shoulder back. “You can touch, just be gentle.”

Corona strokes along the planes of Gideon’s back, close enough to smell mint on her breath. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yeah,” says Gideon, “but it feels good, too. Like it’s real.”

Cor isn’t sure she understands, but she can see the loose, comfortable ease in the lines of Gideon’s muscles, and that’s close enough. “Thank you.” She reaches out and twines her fingers into Gideon’s strong hand. They fall back into the bed together, back to back, warm skin against warm skin. 

It’s not the way Corona expected to spend the evening, she thinks as Cam shuts off the light and settles into her arms. From behind her, there’s the quiet, comforting sound of Harrow and Gideon bickering as they settle into place.

No, it was a lot better.


End file.
